


Prince Charming

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, F/M, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-04
Updated: 1999-11-04
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser is still Francesca's Prince Charming, isn't he?This story is a sequel toSleeping Beauty.





	Prince Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Prince Charming

This story takes place around Christmas time in an AU where RayV never leaves. It's a sequel to my story, "Sleeping Beauty". This is the second part of a trilogy, I hope.

Comments appreciated.

Kay

 

PRINCE CHARMING

By

Kay

emilykaywe@aol.com

 

When the green Buick Riviera slid up to the curb, Constable Benton Fraser was surprised to find there was already a passenger in the front seat. 

"Good morning, Fraser, Dief," said Francesca Vecchio cooly, swinging her high- heeled suade pumps to the pavement and standing in order to let Fraser into the back seat.

"Good morning, Francesca," Fraser returned, averting his gaze from her shapely legs as he followed Diefenbaker into the car. Ray pulled the Riv into traffic, and soon they were moving at a bracing speed toward the city center. On either side, gaily decorated shops flew by, and knots of pedestrians, bundled against the cold, waited impatiently at every crosswalk.

"We're dropping Frannie off downtown for some shopping," Ray explained, glancing at the mountie in the rearview mirror. "Hope you don't mind. I didn't have much choice," he grumbled.

"Not a-tall," said Fraser. "However, Francesca, aren't those shoes rather,...insufficient for today's weather and street conditions?"

"It's o.k.," she answered, without turning around. "I won't be outside much 'cause Ray's gonna pick me up this afternoon."

"Yeah, and you'd better be right here," Ray warned, "not off looking at some come-hither dress to wear to the FOP New Year's Ball, because I can guarantee you right now that none of those bums better ask you."

"Oh, shut up, Ray! Like you're in charge of my life," she said, as the car pulled up to the curb. "Just let me out of this contraption." She struggled with her purse strap, which was caught on the door latch. 

Seeing her distress, Fraser reached forward and efficiently released it, allowing the heavy door to fall open, nearly dragging Francesca onto the sidewalk. But when he reached out his arm to steady her, she didn't take it. Instead, with a final glare at Ray and a quick, "Bye, Frase," Francesca threw her purse over her shoulder and strode purposefully toward the nearest department store.

Fraser got into the front seat and continued to stare in the direction she'd taken until Ray said, "Looks like you're not Prince Charming anymore, huh Benny."

Fraser turned innocent blue eyes on his partner. "I beg your pardon."

Ray peeled out and headed toward the 27th Precinct. "I'm talking about my sister," he said. "She hasn't given you a second look since that fiasco at the warehouse last month." 

Fraser's brows knitted. "I have noticed a difference in her demeanor toward me. However, we came to an understanding over that unfortunate incident." He shook his head. "No. It is not in Francesca's nature to hold a grudge."

Ray snorted.

"She has been perfectly friendly," Fraser insisted. 

"Exactly my point!" Ray grinned and gestured with his hands, seldom leaving both on the wheel. "She hasn't hit on you in a month, and I can personally vouch that she hasn't mentioned your name at home." 

Fraser gazed distractedly out the windshield as they bore down on brake lights ahead at an alarming speed. 

Ray shook his head, laughing. "Hey! To my way of thinking, you dodged a bullet here--no matter what the reason. She didn't even ask if you were coming to the tree-trimming party tonight. You are, aren't you?" he asked, glancing over, "Cause _Ma's_ been asking."

Fraser turned and smiled. "Of course, Ray. I wouldn't miss it." Then he returned to staring straight out at the car in front of them.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, watching snowflakes land on the windshield and twinkle red and green before being swept away by the wipers. 

At last, Fraser said, "Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"What exactly is a come-hither dress?"

"Never mind, Benny."

 

That evening, the dining room table, as well as the side-board and buffet, seemed to sag under the weight of all the food Ma Vecchio and her daughters had prepared. Neighbors, friends, and innumerable relatives drifted throughout the ground-floor rooms, laughing and touching, and always, eventually drawn back to the dining room to fill their plates again. Children dispensed with the convention of plates entirely, choosing instead to run all over the house and back between each bite, weaving among the adults in order to snatch sweets from the colorful mounds on the table. 

"Raymondo!" said Ma Vecchio, slapping her son's hand. "No eggnog before you go on the roof."

"Ma, do you know how cold it is out there?" Ray whined. 

"But you have Benton to help you," she reminded him, patting both men's arms and nodding her head as if the matter were settled.

"Well, at least let me get a mouthful first," said Ray, filling his plate for the third time. "Maybe I can put on a layer of blubber before we have to go out in that cold, huh Benny?"

But Fraser was no longer beside him. He had leaped to help Ma Vecchio with a large box, which was literally spilling over with greens. He scooped up a sprig of greenery with rounded leaves and tiny white berries and placed it on top of the box with hardly a glance as he took the unwieldy load from Ray's mother.

"Perhaps I can help you with these," he offered, "since Ray isn't ready to work yet."

But Mrs. Vecchio chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, I am too old to be getting up and down on step-ladders. Francesca!" she said sharply, calling her daughter in from the kitchen. Then she turned back to the Constable. "You will do it with Francesca, o.k.?"

"I'll be happy to," he answered without hesitation.

Ray nearly choked on his sip of eggnog, but the mountie's face was unreadable. 

Fraser raised his eyebrows at Francesca, where she stood frozen in the doorway. "Shall we 'deck the halls'?"

 

"Ray! You'll never guess who's helping Frannie with the greenery," said Maria. His sister strode over to where he and Tony were sitting on the edge of the couch trying to catch a ballgame through the buzz of voices going on around them. 

"I know, I know. Look, it's all a misunderstanding. He thought he was volunteering to help Ma." Ray waved biscotti at the screen. "Aww, geez! You made me miss the replay!"

"Raymondo! Maria!" Brother and sister jumped as Ma Vecchio bustled into the room. "Everyone is helping, and my own children are wool gathering." Waving both hands, she shooed them out of the room. "Now work!"

Ray took a detour through the kitchen to snag a mug of hot cider from the kettle on the stove. He figured he'd need it if he were going to stay out long enough to top last year's roof decorations. Then he went to find his partner.

But, as he entered the hall, Ray could already hear Benny's voice.

"Ah, it seems all we have left is the mistletoe. Where would you like to hang it?"

Ray's eyes widened. "Aw, Benny, you're not that dense, are you?" he muttered, rushing to his buddy's rescue. But he paused at the end of the hall as he caught sight of his sister. She wasn't even looking at Fraser. In fact, she seemed to be fascinated by one long painted nail. 

"Oh, I don't know. I guess anywhere's o.k." she answered. 

Ray blinked in astonishment and stepped back into the shadows.

Fraser took his time, studying the foyer. "I believe it is traditional to hang mistletoe where a wide variety of people will have the opportunity to pause beneath it. This entry arch between the foyer and living room would be ideal, don't you agree?" 

Francesca merely nodded and began knotting a thread onto the sprig while Fraser moved the step-ladder. The silence grew as she climbed three steps and reached above the molding, baring a swath of midriff beneath her Christmas green vest. 

Fraser's eyes never wavered from her face. Ray wished he could see his friend's expression, but the mountie's back was to him.

As for Francesca, Ray figured his sister hadn't been quiet for this long since she fell asleep in the confessional. Finally, she cleared her throat a couple times and said casually, "Um. So, Frase,..." 

"Yes, Francesca?" 

"I bet you know a lot of stuff about mistletoe. Why don't you tell me...uh...some of that stuff?"

There was a slight pause, then... " _Viscum album_ or mistletoe, as it is commonly called, has been the focus of tradition for centuries...," he recited automatically. 

Francesca seemed to be concentrating on feeling for the tiny nail that had been used for this purpose as long as Ray could remember. Ray breathed in the steam from his cider, which was still too hot to drink, chuckling to himself as, for once, his sister gave every appearance of ignoring the mountie, who went on as though _he_ wasn't really listening either. 

"...The Druids held mistletoe in great reverence, and it was significant in Celtic culture in general as being symbolic of several things, among them fertility."

Francesca dropped the mistletoe. "Oop, sorry," she said, pushing her hair behind her ears with a weak smile.

"No harm done," said Fraser, stooping to retrieve the sprig, and handling it gently as he picked up the train of his discourse. "Scandinavian legend holds that mistletoe was used to slay Balder, the god of Peace," Fraser droned on. "Henceforth, the plant was given over to the goddess of Love for safekeeping." 

The ladder rocked slightly, and Fraser absently steadied it. "It was ordained that those who passed under the mistletoe should receive a token symbolic of love and peace rather than hate," he explained. He raised the sprig. "Perhaps this is the genesis of our modern tradition, which demands a kiss." He waited silently, offering the mistletoe, until the pause caused Francesca to meet his gaze.

Ray had been blowing on his drink, but now he paused with his lips on the mug. He'd never seen his sister's eyes so round or her face so palelike a squirrel in the path of a Mack truck. He saw her swallow hard as Fraser raised the sprig to her free hand. 

But, at the touch, she jumped as if shocked, nearly falling off the ladder.

At the same time, Ray took a huge gulp of cider, burning his tongue in the process. "Ack!"

Fraser whirled. "Ah! Ray!" 

"Ray!" Francesca echoed with a stiff smile. "What do you think?" She stepped quickly off the ladder before Fraser could offer his hand. "It looks pretty good for plastic," she gushed. She twirled in the center of the room without so much as glancing at the greenery. 

She didn't quite meet Fraser's eyes either, when she explained, "Ray likes 'em to last forever. Of course, you have to take what you can get when your brother steals Christmas decorations from work."

"Hey! They were throwing them out," Ray claimed, striding into the room. "I rescued them from the trash."

"Oh, great, Ray." Francesca groused, buffing her nails on her sweater. "That's very classy."

Ray waved his cider mug, sloshing hot liquid over the edge. "I was recycling!"

"Uh, Ray?" Fraser interjected. "Perhaps we should get started on the roof."

"Sure, Benny. Just let me set my sister straight about something." He turned back to Francesca, who was already in the doorway.

"Yeah, like I don't have better things to do, Ray," she said, tossing a swift glance over his shoulder at the mountie before spinning and striding off down the hall.

Ray's voice echoed behind her. "Do you know how much a sprig of real mistletoe costs? Hey! Don't walk away from me."

When they were gone, Fraser looked down at the sprig of plastic greenery in his hand and sighed. Shaking his head, he looped the thread over the nail and left the mistletoe swinging.

 

It wasn't exactly a "heavenly peace" that met Francesca when she went outside to set up the creche on the front lawnbut at least Ray wasn't around making a racket. She had changed out of the suede pumps and now mumbled to herself as she stomped through the snow in jeans and galoshes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking last month, saying all that stuff to Fraser at the warehouse? Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?" she asked of one of the plastic cows.

"Why did I have to make such a big deal out of nothing? So he kissed me? It wasn't earth-flattening or anything." She paused. "Yeah right! Who am I kidding? It's not like most people would mind getting kissed like that for, say, a month." 

She set Joseph down with a _thunk_ beside Mary, turning them slightly toward each other. "And it's not like I haven't paid my bills waiting for him to wake up and answer the phone. I mean, sometimes I wanna just shake him and say 'Hey! What gives?' ya know?" 

Francesca paused and surveyed the placid couple, her eyes coming to rest on the figure of Mary. "I bet you understand. I mean, I'm sure Joseph was a great guy and all, but I always got the impression that he was the quiet type too." She began arranging the animals around Mary and Joseph in a semi-circle, paired off cow-cow, sheep-sheep, and so forth, like a wedding party. 

"You can't just tackle a guy like that. That's why I always treat Fraser with Kit's gloves and never let him know..." she waved her hands as if swatting a fly as she said, "...well, stuff that might scare him off, you know?" She chewed a nail and stared unseeing at the glowing plastic figures. "From now on I've gotta be even more careful not to lose control like at the warehouse," she murmured. 

Francesca sat back on her heels, gazing up at the blinking Star of Bethlehem suspended directly over the holy family and breathed, "God give me strength."

 

Above her, on the porch roof, Fraser's hands slid skillfully along one string of lights after another, checking them for frays and missing bulbs. His eyes, however, were focused beyond and below the edge of the roof, where Francesca's upturned face was currently lit by the flashing colored lights of the enormous Star of Bethlehem behind which he was sitting. 

Suddenly Ray spoke behind him, making him jump. "You 'bout finished with those, Benny? 'Cause I still got to get Santa and his reindeer under control."

"Of course, Ray." Fraser steadied himself against the slope of the roof.

Vecchio's eyes narrowed, and he glanced past the mountie to where his sister knelt in the glow of the holy family. 

Francesca made one last adjustment to the Christ child and dusted off her knees before climbing the porch steps. She had just reached the door when Ray's voice sounded clearly from the roof.

"O.k. Benny, you want to tell me what's going on between you and my sister?"

Francesca froze, her hand on the latch. 

"In what sense?" Fraser responded.

"In the sense that you haven't been more than three feet away from her the whole evening."

"I hardly think that's accurate," said Fraser smoothly.

Francesca backed silently away from the door toward the edge of the porch as Ray spoke again.

"It's what I said this morning, isn't it? About you not being Frannie's Prince Charming anymore. Boy! I thought you were above that stuff."

Fraser's voice was even. "What stuff is that, Ray?" 

"That wanting what you can't have crap." The sounds of rattling paper drowned out a few words. Then Ray exclaimed, "This makes no sense."

"I agree."

"No, I mean these instructions. How do they expect me to attach Santa to the OOPS!"

 

"What is it?"

"Just the instructions going down the chimney," Ray explained. "Good riddance!"

"Perhaps I should go inside and get them for you."

Francesca spun as footsteps _clumped_ overhead, but Ray called out, "Oh, no you don't! You're not getting away that easily." 

She sighed in relief. 

"What is _with_ you, anyway? This is Frannie we're talking about," Ray whined. "Do you want to get caught in her trap?"

"Ray, would you hand me those mounting hooks for the lights?"

"Benny, are you paying attention?"

"Of course, Ray."

Both men fell silent. 

Francesca braced her hips against the porch railing and leaned out under the eaves as only silence and the occasional thump came from the roof.

Finally, Ray spoke. "Look, I can understand. I mean it's never happened to me personally, but it must give a guy a certain...feeling to have a girl act that way toward you. So I can see why it would bug you that Frannie no longer hangs on your every breath, that her eyes don't follow you around the room, that she doesn't drool on your..."

"I can assure you, Ray, that I am not nursing a bruised ego," Fraser cut in.

"Then how come Frannie's no longer on your list of disaster areas to avoid?"

"If you must know,..."

"I must."

Francesca gripped the porch railing fiercely with both hands. 

Fraser sighed heavily. "I have been attempting to right a wrong that Francesca very rightly pointed out the night of the...warehouse incident."

"You mean the night you kissed her and she slapped you, which I still don't get."

"That's not,...or rather...at any rate, your sister took that occasion to point out that I had been impolite in so often retreating from her advances instead of facing them openly."

"Ha! Whoa!..."

A flurry of scrabbling sounds was followed by Fraser's calm voice. "You should be more careful, Ray. The slope of the roof combined with the lack of traction due to..."

"I know, I know. Nice catch." Said Ray a bit breathlessly. Then he repeated, "Ha! I love it. She throws herself at you and then calls you impolite. Don't let her snow you, Benny."

"On the contrary. I believe she was sincere in her complaint and justified in her demands. In my inexperience with women, particularly American women, I undoubtedly judged Francesca too harshly in the past and treated her attentions ungraciously. It is my intention to amend my behavior as I have begun here tonight."

"It doesn't fit."

"I assure you, Ray, that is my reason for..."

"No, I mean, Saint Nick here doesn't fit in the chimney like he's supposed to. Why don't they make these things a standard size or something?

"Perhaps because chimneys are not one standard size," Fraser offered.

"Don't try to change the subject. We were talking about my sister here, wise guy. O.k. so you're just trying to be politehuh, what a shock! What are you going to do when she gets frisky again?"

"I have resolved that there must be no more wavering." The mountie's voice was as firm as if he were informing a suspect of his rights. "Any future advances must be met with a polite but definite response."

Francesca smothered a gasp, her eyes wide. Moving as quietly as possible, she slipped inside the house.

 

On the roof, Fraser finished attaching the light strings so that they could be seen from the street spelling out Buon Natale in Gothic Colonna lettering.

"Can I be of any assistance, Ray?" he called, getting to his feet.

Ray brandished a roll of duct tape. "Nah, Benny, I got it. Didn't need the instructions after all," he said, flashing a grin. "Let's finish with these reindeer and get inside. I'm freezing."

Fraser shrugged and handed Ray the miniature sleigh. They worked in silence for several moments before Ray caught Fraser's eye.

"Polite but definite, huh? Sure you can handle that, Benny?" 

"I can be firm."

"As pudding."

"There is no call to be rude, Ray."

"I call 'em like I see 'em. And where you and women are concerned..." Ray grinned.

Fraser scratched an eyebrow with his thumb. "Well," he said, "as there have been no further advances, it would seem to be a moot point." Taking Donner under one arm and Blitzen under the other, he climbed to the peak of the roof. 

 

At long last, Ma Vecchio pronounced the halls well decked, and, after much back-slapping and eggnog-toasting, the party began to break up. Ray found Fraser in the kitchen, trying to offer to help with the clean-up.

"No, no! You are a guest," Ma protested, taking the dirty dishes out of his hands.

Francesca faced the sink, her head down, seemingly intent on washing the same plate over and over.

"But you said I was family," Fraser reminded Ma with a smile.

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said, kissing his cheek and then shooing him out of the kitchen.

Ray laughed. "Come on, Benny. I'll drive you home."

Their voices echoed through the swinging kitchen door.

"I'll be right with you, Ray. I just need to get my coat."

"O.k. I'm gonna go out and warm up the car."

Fraser started to follow him, then paused in the hall and turned back. 

Passing back through the swinging door, Fraser found Ma Vecchio alone in the kitchen. He thanked her for a lovely evening and offered once again to help with the clean-up, frowning at the spot where Francesca had stood. Finally, he said goodnight to Ma and to Maria who was just entering and walked to the entry hall to retrieve his coat.

Which was where he found Francesca waiting. Behind her, he noticed her dropped dishcloth on the stairs.

"Ah, Francesca. I looked for you to say goodnight, but..."

She waved away his explanation. "That's o.k. I took a shortcut. Fraser, um, before you go, there's something I gotta talk to you about."

"Uh, well, Ray is waiting...." 

"Please, Frase. It'll only take a sec, and it's real important." She smoothed her hair behind her ears, leaving a trace of dishwashing bubbles over one temple.

The edges of his mouth quirked up just slightly. "In that case, you have my undivided attention." He took a step back into the foyer as the last of the party-goers called their goodnights to Ma and went out the door.

Francesca met his gaze for a moment and then quickly looked down, taking his hands and rubbing them with her soapy ones. "See, the thing is, Fraser,...sometimes you feel a certain way about a person. And maybe they feel that way too, or maybe they could if they weren't so... " 

She glanced up and caught her breath at the mountie's cloudy eyes under knitted brows. Lowering her gaze, she continued. "But of course, you never know. I mean, you could be wrong. Everyone makes mistakes, right?"

Fraser shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. "Well, I suppose..."

"And if they do, it doesn't necessarily mean they want to change things."

The Riviera's honk sounded, causing Francesca to jump and rush ahead. "What I'm saying is, the end can be so...final, like that's all she sang, you know?...So, maybe you don't want to know, you know?"

Fraser tilted his head. "I'm not sure I..."

But, as he opened his mouth to speak, Francesca sighed, "Oh hell," and, reaching up on tiptoes, grabbed his head on both sides, and kissed him...passionately. 

Lips soft as petals covered his own, the smell of lemony dishwashing soap making it difficult to identify their taste. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat of her breath on his cheekand something more, moisture. Tears?

It was over in an instant, and she released him, muttering "Merry Christmas, Benton," before she fled, wailing, up the stairs.

Fraser stood, swaying slightly, watching her go, then glanced at the sprig of mistletoe hanging over his head. Hearing footsteps on the porch, he snapped to attention, remembering to wipe his mouth before Ray stuck his head in the door. 

"What are you standing around there for, Benny? You ready to go?"

"Of course, Ray," he answered, casting a puzzled glance up the stairs before following his partner out to the Riviera. 

"What are you tasting now?" Ray asked when Fraser quietly licked the reddish smudge on his hand.

"Never mind, Ray," the mountie answered as they drove off into the clear, dark night. 


End file.
